


Terror in the Night

by Dawn Cunningham (Delta_Dawn)



Series: Highlander stories with Tessa [15]
Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-07-14 22:43:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7193909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delta_Dawn/pseuds/Dawn%20Cunningham
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richie is having nightmares - or are they premonitions?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Terror in the Night

Terror In The Night by Dawn Cunningham

Disclaimers:

Duncan, Richie, and Tessa belong to Rysher. I'm just borrowing them and not getting paid for it.

Do not post or publish this story anywhere else, without my express permission. Feel free to share it with others as long as the disclaimers remain intact.

Author's notes:

This is a first season story that takes place sometime after Freefall.

************

Terror In The Night by Dawn Cunningham

Richie Ryan woke from a sound sleep and glanced at the alarm clock sitting on the bedside table--2:12 AM. He looked around his room and listened carefully, trying to figure out what had interrupted his slumber. There was nothing, yet he was sure that he'd heard something.

Richie knew he might have just heard Duncan or Tessa moving around, but there had been a lot of break-ins in the area. The jewelry store on the next block had been robbed just two nights ago. The owner lived over the store and had been shot and killed by the burglars.

Richie slipped from his bed and quietly headed for the living room, dressed only in a t-shirt and boxer shorts. For a moment he thought about going the other way and waking up Duncan, but decided he'd take a quick look around first. He didn't want to raise a false alarm.

He was halfway across the living room when he heard a noise coming from the shop. Richie's heart started pounding, cold sweat trickled down his back and he felt his hands become clammy with moisture. He looked around for some kind of weapon and spotted a sword laying on the coffee table. He remembered Duncan had been working on it earlier that evening. A loaded gun would have been better, but both Duncan and Tessa refused to have one in their home. Besides, the sword had worked on that guy who had been looking for Felicia--and he had been Immortal. It should work even better against a mortal--it had sure freaked him out when Duncan had threatened him with a sword when he had tried to break into the store. The young man picked up the weapon and headed for the shop.

Feeling much braver now that he was armed, Richie silently crossed Tessa's workshop and entered the antique store's office. Cautiously, he peered into the shop, but didn't see anything. He moved further into the shop, keeping the sword tip up and ready for anything.

Hearing a noise behind him, Richie spun around quickly and felt the sword sink into something. Everything moved in slow motion as the young man realized what he'd done. Even in the dim light, he could see who he'd struck.

Tessa stood before him, her hands clutching at the sword plunged deep into her abdomen, a shocked look on her face. With a slight whimper, she slowly slid back off the sword and fell to the floor, blood pouring from the wound in her stomach. She lifted her head and tried to say something, but the only thing that came out was a gurgling sound as blood dribbled out of her mouth.

Tessa collapsed back to the floor and all movement stopped. Her eyes stared blindly up at Richie, still filled with accusations. The young man stumbled back a few steps, away from the spreading pool of blood, and dropped the sword.

"Noooooooo!" he screamed. "Noooooooo!"

With a sharp gasp, Richie bolted upright in bed and looked around frantically. He was back in his bedroom. He could feel the heavy pounding of his heart and struggled to calm down. It had only been a dream. That was all--just a dream. He hadn't killed Tessa. He couldn't have. It was just a dream.

Richie struggled to convince himself, but there was this nagging little doubt in his mind. The dream had seemed so real. He had to know for sure. He slipped out of bed and quietly left his bedroom. For a moment he paused as a sense of deja vu overwhelmed him. He almost turned to go to the living room, but stopped himself at the last moment, wrapping his arms around his body as he began to shiver in reaction.

Slowly he headed in the other direction, almost reluctant to find out the truth. He stopped in front of the door leading to Duncan and Tessa's bedroom and had to force himself to open it. He peered inside, but it was too dark to see anything. He went inside the bedroom, practically on tiptoe, and moved closer. Finally he was close enough to make out the two forms on the bed--one with blond hair spread across the pillows. With a silent sigh of relief, Richie spun around to leave.

"Richie? Is that you?" came Duncan's whispered voice. "Is something wrong?"

Richie almost laughed hysterically as he turned back around. How did he answer that one? No, I just dreamed I killed the woman you love? Not likely. "Sorry, Mac. I thought I heard something. I didn't mean to wake you," he whispered back.

Duncan carefully extracted himself from his lover's arm and slid out of bed, pulling the covers back up around Tessa. "I'll go take a look around," he offered. He slid his katana from under the bed and crossed the room to join Richie.

The sight of the sword brought back the vivid memory of Tessa's face as she had stood there with another sword buried deep inside her. He could almost smell the blood again and the memory of it pumping out of the Frenchwoman's body set his stomach to churning.

Richie clasped one hand over his mouth and ran from the room, barely making it to his bathroom where he emptied his stomach. He was dimly aware of Duncan following him, then the feel of a warm hand rubbing his back. Richie was too concerned with his heaving stomach to care. When it was finally over, he collapsed back onto the floor, leaning weakly against the cool porcelain of the nearby tub.

Duncan stood up. "Close your eyes for a minute, Richie. I'm going to turn the light on," he warned.

Richie obeyed, but even with his eyes closed, the light seemed to blaze its way to his brain, and he winced. He listened to the sound of the commode being flushed, then of water running in the sink and a moment later a cool cloth brushed across his face. He opened his eyes to stare into the concerned ones of the Scot.

"Are you all right, Richie? Are you in any pain?"

The teenager mutely shook his head. He didn't know how to explain this, so he closed his eyes again.

One of Duncan's hands came to rest against Richie's forehead as the other one continued moving the cloth around the teenager's face and neck. "You don't feel like you have a fever," the Scot commented.

Richie shrugged. "Must have been something I ate," he mumbled. "I'm feeling better already." Well, that was true--even if he felt like his legs were made of spaghetti and he was trembling so bad he had to keep his arms wrapped around his chest to hold himself together.

Duncan moved away again, returning almost immediately with a glass of water. "Here, rinse your mouth out."

Richie followed the instructions, swishing the water around inside his mouth, then spitting it out in the commode. He took another sip and let it slide down his throat. For a moment, he thought it might come right back up, but it didn't. He handed the glass back to Duncan.

"Okay, let's get you back to bed," Duncan said, reaching down to help Richie to his feet. "Do you want to brush your teeth first?"

The teenager thought about it, then nodded. He hoped he'd be able to stand long enough and that brushing would help rid himself of the awful taste in his mouth. Richie was aware of Duncan watching him the whole time and it made him feel very self-conscious about the process.

Teeth cleaning complete, Richie shakily moved back into his bedroom. Duncan followed along until the teenager sat down on the bed, then the Scot went to the dresser and pulled out a clean t-shirt.

"Here, Richie, put this on. Yours is too wet to keep wearing."

The teenager looked down at himself, aware for the first time of the damp, clinging material. He peeled the shirt off and tossed it on the floor before slipping on the clean one.

"Okay, now back under the covers," Duncan ordered. "You need to stay warm." He fussed around the bed, pulling the blankets up more securely around Richie as the teenager followed his instructions. "Try to get some more sleep. Hopefully, you'll feel better in the morning. If you need anything or if you just feel sick again, yell and I'll hear you."

Richie nodded, wanting only to be left alone. A lone tear trickled down his cheek and he hoped that Duncan hadn't noticed in the dim light. He waited until Duncan had left the room before letting out a deep breath.

He wasn't about to go back to sleep--he didn't want the nightmare to come back.

*****

After spending the rest of the night staring at the ceiling, Richie finally got up at 6:00 when he heard Duncan and Tessa move past his room. He took a quick shower before heading to the kitchen.

Tessa was mixing something up at the kitchen counter, but she quickly abandoned her concoction when she saw Richie enter the room. "How are you feeling, Richie? Duncan said you were ill during the night." She came over to the teenager and placed her hand on his forehead.

Richie ducked away. "I'm fine, Tessa." He couldn't look directly at her, the memory of the nightmare still foremost in his mind.

"You're very pale, Richie. Maybe you should rest today. Duncan can handle the shop by himself--it will be good for him."

"I'm *fine*," he snapped. "I don't need to rest--I'm going to go clean up the shop. Call me when breakfast is ready." Richie stalked from the room, feeling Tessa's concerned eyes boring into his back.

Richie grabbed the bottle of glass cleaner and a rag mop from Tessa's workshop before heading inside the shop. He started with the office, but it didn't take long. Soon, he had to move out to the shop. He tried to keep his mind blank as he cleaned the display cabinets--especially when he came to the place where *it* had happened.

The teenager was just congratulating himself on getting past this hurdle when he rounded a corner and came face to face with the sword case. He came to an abrupt halt as memories assaulted him again.

A firm hand on his shoulder brought him out of his near-trance. Richie looked over his shoulder to see Duncan standing behind him.

"Are you all right?" Duncan asked, concern clearly visible in his eyes.

"I'm fine--just taking a break, okay?" Richie replied, spraying the cleaner on the front of the sword cabinet.

"Breakfast is ready. I called you twice--are you sure you're okay?"

"How many times do I have to tell you?" Richie snapped as he polished the glass. "I just didn't hear you call--that's all. I'll be there in a minute. I want to finish this first."

Duncan pulled the cleaner and rag from Richie's grasp. "It can wait. Breakfast is getting cold."

Richie gave in and followed Duncan to the kitchen. Breakfast was a quiet affair. The teenager kept his eyes on his food, but he was still aware of the looks that Duncan and Tessa kept sending each other. He excused himself as soon as possible and headed back to the shop.

By noon Richie had managed to shake off the flashbacks from the nightmare. It had only been a dream--it was time to move past it. By bedtime, Richie had no qualms about going to sleep. He was really tired because of his interrupted slumber the night before. He snuggled down into his pillow and closed his eyes.

Three hours later, he bolted upright in his bed, heart pounding loudly in his ears. The nightmare had been a repeat of the previous night. Once again, he had killed Tessa with a sword.

*****

Duncan woke up at his normal time. He gave Tessa a quick good morning kiss before heading for the kitchen. He was surprised to see the door to Richie's bedroom wide open, and he peered inside. The bed was empty. Shaking his head, Duncan continued on down the hallway. This was a day to mark down on the calendar--Richie not having to be dragged out of bed in the morning.

There was no sign of Richie in the living room or kitchen, so Duncan continued his search. He finally found the teenager in the storeroom--a neat, organized, clean storeroom. It bore no resemblance to the last time he'd seen the room. And that had been late yesterday afternoon.

"Morning, Richie. Looks like you've been busy. How long have you been working in here?"

"Morning, Mac. Ummmm... I don't know. I... I couldn't sleep so I decided to get a head start on the cleaning."

"It looks like you got more than a head start, Richie. This must have taken you hours," Duncan said, studying the dark circles under Richie's eyes. He wanted to ask the teenager what was wrong, but that hadn't gotten him anywhere yesterday.

"I guess," Richie replied. "I should have it finished by breakfast."

"You've done a good job in here. As a reward, why don't you take the rest of the day off? It's supposed to be a nice day--you can go out and enjoy the sunshine." Duncan hoped that a day off to rest and relax would help Richie.

Richie grinned broadly. "That sounds great. Thanks, Mac."

"You're welcome. Breakfast will be ready in thirty minutes--don't be late."

Richie waved his hand in acknowledgement as he went back to his task.

Duncan returned to the kitchen to start breakfast. A short time later, Tessa joined him. "Where is Richie?" she asked. "I noticed he wasn't in his bedroom."

"He's in the storeroom cleaning it," Duncan replied as he started cooking scrambled eggs. "He must have been up for hours--claims he couldn't sleep."

"That doesn't sound like Richie," Tessa replied, worry evident in her voice. "Do you think he's sick? Do you think he should see a doctor?"

"I don't think it's that serious, Tessa. Anyone can suffer from a sleepless night or two. We'll keep on eye on him. If this continues, then we can take him to see a doctor." Duncan removed the scrambled eggs from the stove.

Richie came through the door at that moment. Duncan couldn't help noticing how the teenager had gone pale when he'd seen Tessa. It didn't make any sense.

"You're just in time, Richie. Will you get the orange juice from the refrigerator?" Duncan asked as he carried the pan over to the table and started scooping out portions of the eggs.

Throughout breakfast, Duncan kept an eye on Richie. The teenager seemed to be avoiding Tessa--looking anywhere but at her. He would respond to her questions, but kept the answers as short as possible. If the Scot hadn't known any better, he'd swear that Tessa and Richie had had an argument. Whatever the problem was, the teenager didn't seem to have the same difficulty looking at Duncan.

Richie almost fled from the table when he'd finished eating. Before Duncan could say anything, the teenager was out the back door.

"Duncan? Have I done something to upset Richie?" Tessa asked.

The Scot realized that Tessa had noticed Richie's odd behavior, too. "I don't know, Tessa. He hasn't said anything to me. I can't imagine what it would be."

"It seemed to start yesterday morning, but everything seemed back to normal by afternoon. Now, I feel like it has started all over again. I must have done something wrong."

Duncan reached out and grasped Tessa's hand. "I'm sure you didn't do anything wrong. Richie's probably done something he feels guilty about, and is afraid you'll find out."

"I don't know, Duncan. I just have this feeling..."

"I'm sure it's nothing, Tessa. Don't worry." He squeezed her hand lightly, and smiled at his lover. "Now then, it's almost time for the store to open."

*****

Richie spent most of the morning just cruising around on his motorcycle. Just before lunch, he stopped at the shelter Angie worked at. He didn't get down there very often, so his unexpected day off seemed to be the perfect time to help out.

"Hey, Richie," Angie greeted him. "You look like shit."

Richie almost laughed. Leave it to Angie to speak her mind. "Nice to see you, too, Angie. I haven't been getting much sleep--I keep having this same nightmare."

"Really? Wow, Richie, maybe you're having premonitions! I was reading this book about people who have recurring dreams that then come true. It was real freaky."

The world seemed to rock under Richie's and he felt faint. He hadn't thought of that. What if he was seeing the future? What if he was actually going to kill Tessa?

"Richie, are you all right?" Angie asked. "You look real pale."

"I'm fine," Richie assured her. He seemed to be saying that a lot lately. Too bad it wasn't true! "So, in this book, how often did the people have the dreams before they came true?" he asked, trying to act like he wasn't really interested.

Angie shrugged as she returned to her work. "It varied. Some would have them for weeks or months and others would just have a couple. So, what are your nightmares about?"

"Oh, just the usual stuff," Richie replied off-handedly.

"Well, if they keep happening--you'd better pay attention," Angie warned. "Now, did you come here to watch or to work?"

Richie dug in and helped, using the mindless repetitive process of making sandwichs to give himself time to think. Even if his dreams were a premonition, surely he could do something about it. All he had to do was stay away from swords. That shouldn't be too difficult--right?

With lunch served at the shelter and the kitchen cleaned up, Richie tried to convince Angie to play hooky. "C'mon, Ange. The sun's shining, it's a beautiful day--we can drive down to the beach and catch some rays. It'll be fun."

"I have to work, Richie," Angie protested. "I just can't take off whenever I like. You go ahead and enjoy your day off." She lightly pushed him toward the door. "Even better, go home and take a nap. And be careful driving--I don't want you to fall asleep and have an accident."

"I'll be careful," Richie replied as he headed out the door.

*****

Richie rode around for a while, but Angie's last words had reminded him of just how little sleep he'd had in the last few days. It was a real struggle to keep his mind on his driving, and he finally decided to head home before he did get into an accident. A nap really sounded good about now. Maybe he could grab a couple of hours of sleep without the nightmares.

Duncan was in Tessa's workshop when Richie came in the back door. The Scot was trying to move a large crate.

"You're just in time, Richie," Duncan said as he stood up straight. "Give me a hand with this."

"Sure, Mac. Where do you want it?"

"Over there." Duncan pointed out a space by the wall. "I just want it out of the way until I can finish unpacking it."

Richie moved to one end of the crate and, on a signal from Duncan, lifted it. It wasn't very heavy, just an awkward size. "So, what's in the crate, Mac?" he asked as he tried to read the shipping label.

"Connor sent me some swords he thought I'd be interested in."

The box slipped from Richie's suddenly lax grip and crashed to the floor. "Swords?" he squeaked out.

"Yes, swords," Duncan replied, lowering his end to the floor more carefully than Richie had. "Is there something wrong with that, Richie?"

"No. Nothing at all." Richie reached down to pick up the crate again. "Sorry, Mac, it just slipped."

With a disbelieving look, Duncan picked his end of the crate up and this time they were successful in moving it to the desired location. The Scot grabbed the teenager's elbow when he tried to flee.

"What's going on, Richie?" he asked with a frown. "Are you in some kind of trouble?"

"No! I'm not in any kind of trouble."

"Listen, Richie. You're not sleeping well. You're as jumpy as a cat. You seem to be avoiding Tessa--something's got to be wrong."

"I just have a little bit of insomnia," Richie protested. "In fact, I was just on my way to take a nap." He hoped that Duncan would not pursue why he'd had a hard time facing Tessa. He got his wish.

"All right, Richie. Go take your nap."

*****

Despite his best efforts, sleep seemed impossible to attain. He was so tired he should have dropped off immediately, but his brain refused to let him rest. He kept thinking about what Angie had said--about how dreams could be premonitions. What if that were true? What if he was really foreseeing the future?

Tessa and Duncan were the best things that had ever happened to him. Who knows where he would be now if they hadn't taken him in. And how was he going to repay their kindness? By killing Tessa? The very thought sent his stomach churning.

He'd rather kill himself first.

On that unsettling thought, he finally fell asleep. Soon, he was caught up in his nightmare again. He tried to stop himself from picking up the sword for protection, but his body wouldn't listen to his mind. He knew what was going to happen, but he couldn't stop himself. He tried telling himself to wake up, but the dream sequence kept running until Tessa's body lay at his feet. Only then did he wake up with a gasp.

Slowly, Richie swung his feet out of bed and sat up on the edge. He felt more tired now than before he had fallen asleep. He didn't know how much more of this he could take.

Wearily, he dragged himself to his feet and headed for the living room. He collapsed onto the couch, leaning his head back and closing his eyes for a moment. Richie felt himself start to drift and jerked upright again. He wasn't ready to face another nightmare right now. He jumped to his feet. He had to find something to do--something to keep him busy.

At an almost frantic pace, Richie headed for Tessa's workshop. It could always use a good sweeping--that would keep him awake. He applied himself diligently to finding any small speck of dirt and removing it. Not an inch of floor was overlooked.

The self-imposed task took up the rest of the afternoon. Richie barely had enough time to get cleaned up before dinner, sliding into his chair as Tessa was pulling a casserole out of the oven. They had just started eating when Duncan went on the attack.

"Okay, Richie, which is it? You either want something or you've done something that you don't think we'll like." Duncan quirked an eyebrow up and stared intently at the teenager.

"Huh?" Richie replied, totally confused. "I don't know what you mean."

"The workshop--we could practically eat off the floor in there. Whatever it is, it must be big."

"I just felt like doing something," Richie defended his actions. "Is that all right?"

"No hidden motives? No 'I broke something expensive'? No 'can I borrow the T-bird'?"

Richie shook his head at each question. "I'm hurt, Mac," he replied, putting on his most innocent air. "I try to help out and you accuse me of wanting something."

"Maybe it's because I know you," Duncan replied, a look of disbelief on his face.

"Well, this time you're wrong," Richie insisted.

"We'll see."

The rest of the dinner conversation was quite lively--at least on Richie's part. He was fighting the tiredness that seemed to be seeping through his entire body. He even insisted on doing the dishes himself. The kitchen gleamed when he was done.

Richie looked around for something else to do. Tessa and Duncan were curled up on the sofa together, listening to soft music and enjoying the gentle warmth coming from the fireplace. If he joined them, he'd be asleep in a few minutes. That wouldn't be good.

An idea suddenly occurred to Richie. Last week he'd spotted some brass antiques in the store that needed to be polished. At the time, he'd pushed the pieces into the back of the display case so they wouldn't be too noticeable. He retrieved the proper cleaning materials and headed out to the shop.

Richie had no idea how long he'd been working on his polishing task when a voice interrupted his work.

"Richie! What are you doing?"

Richie felt himself flush slightly when he saw Duncan standing at the door to the shop, hands on hips, and a glare on his face.

"Ummmm... just doing a little polishing. These pieces really need it."

Duncan stalked across the shop and grabbed the polishing rag from the teenager's hand. "Enough already! They could have waited until tomorrow. I don't know what's going on, but you'd better spill it--right now."

For a moment, Richie was tempted to tell Duncan about the nightmares, but he was afraid the Scot would just consider it childish. Or, even worse, kick Richie out before he really did hurt Tessa. So he kept quiet.

Duncan finally sighed. "No more cleaning tonight--understand?"

Richie nodded.

"Good. Let's go back to the apartment."

Richie reluctantly followed Duncan. He sat down on a living room chair while the Scot resumed his place on the sofa. The teenager had to struggle to keep his eyes open. He finally jumped up. "I think I'll make some coffee," he offered, hoping the caffeine would keep him awake.

"At this time of night?" Duncan asked. "I don't think that would be a very good idea, Richie. Why don't you have some warm milk instead?"

"Never mind," Richie mumbled, resuming his seat. The last thing he wanted was something to make him more drowsy.

"Richie, you look like you're ready to fall asleep," Tessa commented. "Why don't you go to bed?"

"No, no, I'm fine," Richie assured her, cranking his eyes as wide open as possible. "It's too early to go to bed."

Another fifteen minutes passed before Duncan's patience had worn thin. "Richie, go to bed--and that's an order! You're about to fall asleep in that chair."

Richie opened his mouth to protest, but was cut off by the Scot.

"Bed!" Duncan ordered, pointing toward Richie's room.

The teenager gave in and headed for his room. Once inside, he decided he could keep awake by cleaning out his closet. As long as he kept quiet, Duncan and Tessa would never know. That idea was spoiled thirty minutes later when a light tapping came at the door. Before Richie had a chance to hide what he'd been doing, the door opened and Duncan peered in.

"Richie! What part of 'go to bed' didn't you understand? Do I have to physically put you in that bed and tie you down? This is your last warning!"

For a moment, Richie almost protested. He was eighteen years old and didn't like being treated like a child. He decided not to bother when he saw the glare on Duncan's face. This was one argument he wouldn't be able to win. With a sigh, he headed for his bathroom.

Duncan stood in the doorway while Richie got ready for bed. He didn't leave until the teenager was in bed and under the covers. "I'm going to leave this door open. I'd better not see any lights come on or hear any noises. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Mac," Richie mumbled.

"Good night, Richie."

*****

Once satisfied that Richie was in bed and going to stay there, Duncan returned to the living room. "I just don't know what's gotten into Richie lately," he said as he sat back down on the couch.

Tessa snuggled up to him. "Treating him like a child who's up past his bedtime won't help, Duncan. I'm really starting to worry about him."

"I am too, Tessa, but I don't know what to do."

"Maybe he should go see a doctor," Tessa suggested.

"Maybe," Duncan replied. "But I'm not sure whether he needs a medical doctor or a psychiatrist." He gave a deep sigh and pulled Tessa closer.

They sat quietly for a while before Tessa suggested they go to bed, too.

"You go ahead, Tessa," Duncan replied. "I'm going to stay up a little bit longer and make sure Richie is sound asleep."

"Don't be long," Tessa replied with a seductive grin.

"I won't be," Duncan promised as he gave her a light kiss. He watched her as she headed for the bedroom before getting up to bank the fire. Deciding that now would be a good time to start working on his new delivery of swords, the Scot fetched one from Tessa's workshop.

The soothing steps involved in cleaning the sword gave him plenty of time to think. Richie had been acting so strangely the last few days. The only problem was that he didn't have a clue as to why. Normally, he could drag the truth out of the teenager, but Richie was being very stubborn about it.

Well, tomorrow this would all end. He would give Richie an ultimatum--either tell them what was bothering him or face a barrage of medical tests. That threat should get the teenager to talk.

"Duncan," Tessa's soft voice floated out to him.

He looked up and saw her standing in the hallway leading to their bedroom. She was wearing a long, flowing blue silk nightgown with spaghetti straps. Tessa crooked a finger and beckoned him before disappearing back down the hallway.

Duncan abandoned his sword cleaning and followed willingly. He paused a moment outside Richie's room and listened intently. It sounded like the teenager was asleep, so the Scot moved on to his own room. Flickering candlelight filled the room, but there was enough light to make out Tessa reclining on the bed. She patted the bed beside her and he didn't need another invitation.

*****

Richie tried to stay awake as long as he could. He stared up at the ceiling of his room, fighting the urge to close his eyes. But, eventually, he had to give in.

Once again, the nightmare started and, once again, Richie fought to stop it. He didn't want to pick up the sword, but it was like he had no control over his body--like he was a bystander in the whole thing. The dream came to its inevitable end, and Richie woke up with tears running down his face.

Knowing he couldn't face another nightmare that night, Richie quietly got out of bed and got dressed. Through his open door, he could see light coming from the living room. It could mean that Duncan was still up, but the teenager didn't care anymore. Maybe it was time to talk to the Highlander--maybe he could help.

Richie walked into the living room. There was no sign of Duncan, but the teenager came to a shuddering stop when he saw the sword on the coffee table. He had no idea how long he stood there, staring down at the weapon. A part of him wanted to pick up the sword, while the other part of him wanted him to flee. Finally, the second half won out.

Richie returned to his room, threw some clothes in a duffel bag, and slipped on a jacket. He retraced his steps back to the living room, hurrying past the beckoning sword. He was almost to the back door when he paused, then went back to the antique store office. He scribbled a few words on a sheet of paper, then took it back to the kitchen. Richie placed the note in front of the coffee pot where it wouldn't be missed in the morning.

The teenager took a final look around the place before heading to the back door. A few moments later, the duffel bag was secured on the back of his motorcycle and he was off.

For a while, Richie just drove aimlessly, no goal in mind. The streets were practically empty--only an occasional car passing by. He couldn't think of anywhere to go until he remembered Duncan's island. He'd been there before. There were always plenty of supplies stored there, and he knew where Duncan stashed the key to the front door. Richie was fairly certain he could handle the canoe himself. It would be the perfect place to hang out until the nightmares stopped.

Two hours later, Richie turned off the main road. It wouldn't be much longer before he got to where Duncan stored his canoe. It was a lot colder up here than it had been in Seacouver. Right now, he wished he'd packed warmer clothes. Still, once he got to the cabin, he could start a fire and warm up that way.

Richie finally reached the canoe. In no time, he had his bag tossed in the bottom, and was shoving off from the bank. The canoe was much more difficult to handle by himself, and Richie found himself following a zigzag course. Several times the canoe started to tip, but he always managed to keep from being dumped into the water.

By now, he was really starting to feel the effects of lack of sleep. He couldn't wait to get to the island and go to bed. Hopefully, the nightmare wouldn't return there. He paddled strongly for a few moments, then closed his eyes as the canoe glided along.

The next thing Richie knew, he was immersed in the freezing water. Fortunately, it wasn't very deep and he was able to reach bottom. He looked around for the canoe and saw that it had already floated quite a ways away from him. Richie half-waded and half-swam to the overturned craft, dragged it into shallower water, and tried to turn it back over.

It took three tries before he managed to right the canoe. He located one of the paddles and retrieved it. It took all his remaining energy to hoist himself back into the craft. Richie took stock of the situation. He was out of the freezing water, but his clothes were soaking wet and there was a stiff breeze blowing. And his bag with his extra clothes was missing.

Once again, he headed for the island. He was shivering badly by the time he reached the shore. When he tried to beach the canoe, Richie tipped the craft and plunged back into the water. He was close enough to be able to stand up and he waded ashore.

Richie looked back to see the canoe slowly drifting away. For a moment, he debated swimming after it, but he knew he didn't have the energy. It looked like he would be stuck here for a while. He hiked up the path to the cabin, his legs struggling with every step--like he was walking through mud.

The inside of the cabin seemed so warm once he got inside. Richie didn't understand why since the only heat should be from the fireplace and it was empty at the moment. He stripped out of his sodden clothing and padded over to the room he used whenever they came here. He grabbed the quilt from the bed and wrapped it around his shivering body before collapsing onto the bed.

*****

Duncan couldn't believe his eyes when he saw Richie's empty bed the next morning. He angrily stalked through the apartment, then the store, trying to find the missing teenager. There was no sign of him--in fact, the Scot couldn't sense the pre-Immortal at all. His next stop was the back door. Both the T-bird and the Mercedes were still parked in their customary spots, but Richie's motorcycle was missing.

The Highlander moved back into the apartment. Richie must have known that Duncan had reached the end of his patience so he'd fled to avoid the confrontation. Well, delaying it for a few hours wasn't going to make it go away.

Duncan moved back into the apartment. Tessa was headed for the coffeepot, eyes only half open.

"I haven't made the coffee, yet," Duncan informed her. "I was trying to find Richie."

That opened Tessa's eyes. "And did you find him?"

Duncan shook his head. "His motorcycle is gone. He must have taken off for the day."

"That doesn't sound like Richie," Tessa replied, frowning. She reached for the empty coffeepot. "What's this?" She picked up a piece of paper from the counter and read it. "Oh, no!"

"What is it, Tessa?" Duncan asked, moving to her side. He took the paper and read it, too.

'I need to be by myself for a while--I need to work out some things on my own. I'll be home soon. Don't worry. Richie.'

"Damn him!" Duncan burst out. "When I get my hands on that kid, I'm going to..." He cut himself off as he tried to decide which of the many ideas that popped into his head would top the list. "I should have known he'd pull a stunt like this!"

"Where would he have gone, Duncan?" Tessa asked.

"I don't know. We can check with his friends, but Richie knows how to take care of himself on the streets. He could hide out anywhere and there's no way we'd be able to find him."

Tessa glanced at the clock. "Well, it's too early to start making phone calls to his friends."

As if that had been a signal, the phone rang. Duncan jumped for it, hoping Richie would be on the other end. Instead, it was Giles Peabody--the man who ran the general store where Duncan always got supplies while he was up at the cabin.

"Sorry to bother you so early, Duncan," Peabody started out. "I just thought you should know... I went fishing this morning and noticed your canoe was missing. It was probably some punk kid--he left a motorcycle behind. I just don't know what's got into kids these days... Why, when I was young--"

"Thanks for calling me," Duncan interrupted what he knew could be a long-winded dialogue. "I think a friend of mine is the one who borrowed the canoe, but I'll come up and check it out."

"Well, if you're sure... I could call the Sheriff and have him look into it for you."

"No, that's all right, Giles. If it was my friend who borrowed it, I don't want him hassled by the law. It should only take me a few hours to get up there. Can I borrow your rowboat to get out to my island? That's probably where he was headed."

"Sure, no problem, Duncan. If you need anything, just let me know."

"I will, and thanks, Giles." Duncan hung up the phone and turned to Tessa. "We just got lucky. I think Richie went to the island."

"I'll get our coats," Tessa said, already headed across the kitchen.

"Maybe you should stay here," Duncan suggested. He had no idea what they might find at the cabin. The thought of Richie trying to manage a canoe on his own caused a queasy feeling in the Scot's stomach. "Richie might respond better if it's just me. You know--man to man."

Tessa threw him a disbelieving look. "You said you tried that already. Now it's my turn to have a few words with a certain young man. I'm going to get to the bottom of this."

Duncan recognized the stubborn look on Tessa's face. He knew it would be a waste of time arguing with her--he'd learned that lesson after twelve years of being together. "I'll go start the car," he replied.

*****

Duncan pushed the speed limit the whole way. He alternated between anger and worry as he drove along. He knew he had to calm down before they found Richie--otherwise, he'd start yelling and that was the wrong way to approach the teenager.

They finally reached the spot where Duncan kept his canoe and Mr. Peabody kept his rowboat. In a very short time, the Scot was rowing the boat toward the island. He really preferred a canoe where he could watch where he was going though there was an advantage to being able to see Tessa's face while rowing. He just wished she'd remove the worried look from her face.

"Duncan! Look! Over there!" Tessa exclaimed, pointing toward shore.

The Scot stopped rowing and followed her pointing finger. He saw a bag snagged on a piece of driftwood--a familiar-looking bag. He felt a lump grow in his throat. It seemed his worst fears might have come to pass. He maneuvered the boat close enough to reach out and grab the bag. A brief inspection of the contents confirmed it belonged to Richie.

"Duncan... does this mean..." Tessa seemed unable to finish the sentence as she stared at the bag.

"Of course not, Tessa," Duncan tried to assure her, even if he was thinking the same thing. "It probably just fell out of the canoe."

"Along with Richie."

Duncan shrugged. "I don't know," he replied as he started rowing again. They'd get to the island soon--then he would know whether he needed to start searching for a newly-immortal Richie.

The island was in sight when Tessa exclaimed again. Once again, Duncan followed her pointing finger and saw the overturned canoe. "Don't worry, Tessa. Richie can swim and he could have easily made it to the island." He didn't bother to mention the freezing water that could have prevented the teenager from making it.

He didn't bother with the canoe--leaving it floating where it was. It could be retrieved later. For now, he needed to find out about Richie. A few more strong pulls on the oar, then they were bumping up against the shore.

Duncan and Tessa hurried up the path to the cabin. The Highlander checked for the hidden key, but it was missing, so they continued on to the front door. The handle turned easily and the door opened. The first thing Duncan saw was the pile of wet clothes on the floor. He gave a sigh of relief. Richie had made it to the island after all. Now, the only thing to find out was whether he had died on the way.

Duncan started toward Richie's bedroom, almost pausing when he felt the touch of a pre-Immortal. A small smile crossed his face and he picked up the pace. He was unprepared for the sight that greeted his eyes when he opened the bedroom door.

Richie was huddled up on the bed under a quilt, shivering so badly that Duncan could visibly see it. A few quick strides put him by the teenager's side and the Highlander reached out to check Richie for injuries. The cold flesh told him all he needed to know, but at least he didn't seem to have any broken bones.

"Is he..." Tessa asked from the doorway.

"He's alive, Tessa, but he's suffering from hypothermia. We have to get him warmed up. I'll start a fire--that should help."

"I'll get the stove going--then I'll warm up some soup," Tessa suggested.

Duncan and Tessa hurried to their tasks. Once Duncan had a fire going, he fetched several blankets from a cupboard and made a bed in front of the growing blaze. He returned to Richie's room, wrapped the teenager in a dry blanket, and gently picked him up. He carried him out and placed him on the blankets in front of the fire before piling more blankets on top of him.

Duncan checked Richie's hands and toes for frostbite and was pleased to see no signs of it. All they had to do was get the teenager warmed up and he should be just fine.

"The soup is ready, Duncan," Tessa said as she came into the living room and knelt down by Richie. She reached out one hand and lightly stroked his face. "He's so cold," she whispered.

Duncan grabbed her hand and squeezed it gently. "I know, but he's going to be all right. We just have to warm him up." He turned his face to the now-blazing fire. "The fire will help, but I'm going out to start the generator so the water heater can run. If he wakes up, try to get him to drink some of the soup."

Tessa nodded, keeping her eyes on Richie's face.

Duncan went outside to the shed that housed the generator. It didn't take too long to get it started up, and he returned to the cabin. He found Tessa filling jars with water. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"I'm making hot water bottles," she explained. "I started some water heating while I was making the soup. We can wrap towels around them and put them next to Richie. They won't stay warm for long, but they should help." She picked up one of the bottles and demonstrated.

"Good thinking, Tessa." Duncan helped her finish assembling the bottles, then carried them to the living room. "What we need is some bricks to warm in the fire," he said as he tucked the bottles around the still-unconscious Richie. "I'll go find some stones to use."

Once again, Duncan headed outside. He returned shortly with four large stones that he placed directly in the flames in the fireplace. Soon, two of them were wrapped in towels as well and placed next to Richie. "We can change the stones around as they grow cold," he explained.

Tessa felt Richie's face again. "It seems warmer," she told Duncan. "And he doesn't seem to be shivering as much."

Duncan checked for himself. "You're right, Tessa. Let's see if we can wake him up enough to drink some soup." The Scot lightly patted Richie's face. "C'mon, Richie. Time to wake up."

After what seemed like forever, Richie finally opened his eyes. He looked back and forth between the two of them. "Mac? Tessa?" he managed to croak out.

"Take it easy, Richie. You're going to be all right." Duncan moved behind the youth to help him sit up.

"Here, Richie, try to drink some of this soup," Tessa coaxed, holding the mug she had just fetched from the kitchen to the teenager's lips.

Richie obediently swallowed a few times. His teeth kept chattering against the mug and he pulled his head back. "So cold," he muttered.

"I know," Tessa commiserated. "You must have fallen into the water. Now, drink some more soup."

They continued their ministrations for another hour before they deemed Richie's temperature was close to normal. By then, the water heater was finished running and Duncan went in to prepare a hot bath for Richie. He had to help the youth walk to the bathroom, but left him alone to soak in the tub for a while.

He returned to the living room to find Tessa staring into the fire with tears running down her cheeks. "What's wrong?" he asked as he took her into his arms.

"What if Mr. Peabody hadn't called? What if we hadn't come up here? Richie might have died."

"Shhhh... Richie's going to be fine," Duncan assured her.

"I know. It's just... He would have been all alone. No one should have to die alone," she sobbed out.

Duncan let Tessa cry herself out, holding her tightly while she did. He knew part of it was just reaction now that the crisis had past. Still, it had been a close thing--Richie could have died. He could have become immortal this very day. He was way too young for that. Duncan would have to be sure to have a long chat with Richie to make sure the teenager never did anything this stupid again.

*****

Toasty warm from his bath, Richie padded out to the living room, feeling a little bit silly. Since his clothes were all drenched, he was clad in some old clothes of Duncan's. He had to hold up the pants to keep them from pooling around his ankles and the sleeves of the sweatshirt had been rolled up several times so that he could even see his hands.

Tessa and Duncan jumped up when he walked into the room and, a moment later, Richie found himself engulfed in blankets and sitting on the couch. A mug of soup was handed to him, and Tessa firmly told him to drink it all.

Richie obeyed, feeling even more guilty when he saw Tessa's reddened eyes. He knew she had been crying, and he was probably the cause. "I'm sorry," he mumbled into his cup.

"For what?" Duncan asked. "For running away? For almost dying? For scaring us half to death?"

Richie just nodded, refusing to look at Duncan and Tessa. "I didn't mean to cause any trouble--I just wanted to get away for a while."

Tessa sat down next to the teenager. "Why, Richie? Why did you need to get away? What was so bad that we couldn't help you?"

Richie just couldn't look at her--too ashamed to admit the reason. "I just had to. Don't ask me to explain."

Duncan moved to kneel down in front of Richie, making the teenager feel like he was being surrounded. "That's not good enough, Richie. We're not leaving here until you *do* explain."

Richie shook his head, trying to stop the tears from welling up in his eyes. He couldn't remember the last time he'd cried--he didn't want to do it in front of Tessa and Duncan. But the tears refused to cooperate, and Richie felt them start to slide down his face. "I'm sorry," he gulped out again.

"Oh, Richie," Tessa sighed, moving closer and wrapping her arms around the teenager. "We just want to help."

Richie almost felt like a child again as he cried in Tessa's arms. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt so loved or cherished. Once his tears were spent, he felt totally drained. His eyes drifted shut, and he was only dimly aware of being shifted around so that he was stretched out on the couch, his head in Tessa's lap. He fell asleep to the gentle stroking of her hand.

Duncan and Tessa shared concerned glances over Richie's sleeping form. It had been heartbreaking for the Frenchwoman to listen to his sobs. "What are we going to do?" she whispered.

Duncan shook his head. "I don't know," he whispered back. "I've never seen him this way. It might just be reaction setting in, but I'm afraid to push him too hard."

"Maybe it's just because he's had so little sleep the last few days."

"That might be it," Duncan conceded. "Hopefully, he'll sleep for a while. If it's all right with you, I'd like to go fetch the canoe."

"Go ahead," Tessa agreed. "I'll stay here with Richie in case he wakes up."

Duncan stood up and lightly kissed her before heading out the door.

Tessa stared into the fireplace, trying to come up with a way to make Richie talk to them. Her thoughts were interrupted when Richie started moving restlessly in his sleep. "Shhhh... it's all right, Richie," she said in a low voice as she lightly rubbed his back.

Richie calmed down for a while, but soon the restless movements were back. Once again, Tessa reassured him and, once again, he calmed down. The Frenchwoman couldn't help but wonder if Richie's lack of sleep had something to do with nightmares, although she couldn't figure out why he would run away because of that.

The third time Richie started becoming agitated, he suddenly called out her name. Tessa expected him to open his eyes, but it seemed he was still in the middle of his nightmare.

"Shhhh, Richie. It's all right. I'm here," Tessa calmly said as she rubbed his back. "Everything is fine. We're both safe."

Richie's movements ceased and a slow smile crossed the sleeping youth's face. The tenseness seemed to drain out of his body, and Tessa was fairly certain that he'd fallen into a deeper sleep. Somehow, she doubted he'd be waking up any time soon.

Tessa returned her gaze to the fireplace, thinking about the fact that Richie had called her name out in his sleep. The teenager had sounded horrified, so that probably ruled out a sexual dream. Could Richie be afraid of her somehow? Afraid that she was going to do something to him? It might explain why he had been avoiding her.

Tessa tried to come up with something--anything--that she had done that would have Richie thinking that way. Surely, by now, he knew he was part of their family? It had been pretty obvious, when he first came to live with them, that he had expected to be kicked out at any time.

"Is he still asleep?" Duncan's low voice interrupted her thoughts.

Tessa nodded, then carefully extracted herself from the couch, sliding a pillow under Richie's head in place of her lap. He frowned slightly for a moment before clutching the pillow tightly and nestling into it. Tessa paused and looked down at him for a moment. He looked so young. She carefully brushed a lock of hair back from his face, then leaned over and placed a kiss on his cheek.

She lead Duncan into the kitchen before telling him her theory about Richie having nightmares.

"That makes sense," Duncan agreed. "It would explain his lack of sleep. I wonder what his nightmares are about?"

Tessa sighed. "I don't know for sure, but I think I'm involved somehow. He called out my name in his sleep."

Duncan looked startled for a moment before grinning broadly. "Well, knowing Richie, I'm not surprised he's having dreams about you. I would have had dreams about you at his age, too."

Tessa shook her head. "I don't think they are those kind of dreams."

"Well, we'll just have to ask him when he wakes up, won't we?" Duncan replied. "Until then, let's not borrow trouble."

*****

Richie slept throughout the day. Duncan and Tessa kept an eye on him, and occasionally checked to be sure he wasn't running a fever. The Scot kept the fire going all day to keep any chill out of the living room. Finally, at dinnertime, Duncan decided to wake Richie up.

"He needs to eat something," he explained to Tessa. "We don't want him to get sick. He can go back to sleep afterwards."

"Of course he can," Tessa agreed with a knowing smile. "Right after you get all your questions answered."

Duncan could feel heat creep up into his face and he turned away to stir the stew bubbling away on the stove. "Well, you can't tell me you're not curious, too," he defended himself.

"Just let him eat first," Tessa insisted. "We don't want him to have indigestion, as well."

"I wouldn't think of disturbing his meal," Duncan replied haughtily. "Besides, I want to enjoy my dinner, too."

"Of course," Tessa replied before heading into the living room. It took some coaxing, but she finally got Richie awake enough to stand up and follow her to the kitchen.

The teenager dropped heavily into a kitchen chair, a quilt still wrapped around him, eyes only opened halfway.

"How are you feeling, Richie?" Duncan asked from the stove as he ladled out three bowls of the stew.

"Fine," Richie mumbled. "Tired," he added after a moment.

Duncan set a bowl down in front of him. "Here you go. Dig in." He almost laughed as he watched Richie struggle to get a hand out of the blanket. Even after he managed that, the sleeve of the shirt covered his hand.

"Let me help you," Tessa offered. She rolled the sleeve up far enough to expose Richie's hand, then handed him his spoon.

Silence reigned at the table as they all ate the savory stew. At first, Richie ate slowly, but as he became more alert, he started consuming the food at a much faster pace. He managed to work his way through three bowls of stew, plus a half dozen biscuits before leaning back in his chair with a satisfied sigh.

"That was worth waking up for," Richie announced.

Duncan studied the teenager's face carefully. While the dark circles were still visible under Richie's eyes, he looked much improved. A slight flush filled his face--possibly the first indication of a fever--but the young man's eyes were alert.

"So, are you ready to talk about why you had to run away?" Duncan asked.

"I wasn't running away!" Richie protested. Under Duncan's constant gaze, he amended his statement. "Well, not really. I mean I was going away, but not running away. I just wanted some time alone."

"Because of your nightmares?" Tessa asked.

Richie turned startled eyes to the Frenchwoman. "How did you... Ummmm... What nightmares?" He tried to look innocent, but they knew him too well.

"Richie, we know about the nightmares," Duncan insisted, stretching the truth a little bit. "Why don't you tell us about them?"

"I can't," Richie replied, looking down at the table.

"Richie, everyone has nightmares. There's no reason to try and hide them," Tessa said.

"You don't understand," Richie protested.

"Then help us understand," Duncan persisted. "If you can't tell us what the nightmares were about, then can you tell us why you had to run... be by yourself?"

"I was afraid," Richie finally mumbled after a long silence.

Duncan and Tessa exchanged glances. "Afraid of what, Richie?" Tessa asked, her voice full of pain. "Afraid of us? Of me?"

Richie's head shot up and he stared at Tessa. "No! I could never be afraid of you, Tessa! You're the sweetest, kindest, gentlest person I've ever known."

A smile broke out on Tessa's face, but Duncan could see the tears gathering in her eyes.

"Thank you, Richie," she replied, reaching out to lightly stroke his cheek for a brief moment. "Then who were you afraid of? Duncan?"

The Scot waited anxiously for the answer to the question he had not wanted to ask.

"No, I'm not afraid of Mac, either. Sure, he can be a bit intimidating at times, but that's only when he's trying to protect you." Richie paused and looked over at the Highlander. "Or trying to get me to stay out of trouble," he added.

"I just wish it would work," Duncan replied with a grimace. "It would make life so much easier if you'd stay out of trouble."

"Yeah, Mac, but wouldn't it be boring?" Richie quipped with a grin.

Duncan sighed and shook his head. "We're getting off the subject here. So, Richie, if you weren't afraid of Tessa or me, then who were you afraid of?" A sudden thought occurred to him. "Has someone been bothering you? Threatening you?" he asked, ready to track down whoever it was and wreak vengeance on the person. Maybe it was an Immortal who was after the pre-Immortal's Quickening.

"No, that's not it at all!" Richie sighed heavily.

"Then what?" Duncan asked, feeling very frustrated and knowing it showed in his voice.

Richie looked back down again. "I was afraid I was going to hurt Tessa," he finally admitted in a low voice, wrapping the quilt tightly around himself.

Silence filled the room as Duncan and Tessa stared at Richie.

"See, I told you you wouldn't understand!" Richie burst out, jumping to his feet and practically running from the room.

Duncan and Tessa quickly followed the teenager and found him huddled up on the couch in front of the fire. They took the same places as before, Tessa on the couch next to Richie and Duncan on the floor in front of the teenager.

"You're right, Richie," Duncan started. "We don't understand. We know you would never hurt Tessa. I don't understand how you think you could."

"It was the nightmares!" Richie explained. "I kept having them over and over and Angie said they might be premonitions!"

"Is that what your nightmares are about?" Tessa asked. "You hurting me?"

Richie nodded.

"Tell us about the nightmares," Duncan insisted. "Sometimes, it's better to talk about them."

"Well, I heard a noise and I went to check it out and the sword was there, so I picked it up and went into the shop and then I heard something behind me, and I spun around, but it wasn't the burglar, it was Tessa and I... I..."

"And you hurt Tessa," Duncan finished for him.

Richie nodded again. "I killed her," he whispered, closing his eyes tightly.

"Richie, look at me," Duncan demanded. He waited until the youth obeyed before continuing. "It was just a nightmare. It wasn't a premonition. I *know* you wouldn't hurt Tessa."

"But what if it was a premonition? Don't you see? I can't be around Tessa or I might kill her! That's why I left. When I saw the sword... I knew the nightmare was going to come true!"

"What sword?" Duncan asked.

"It was on the coffee table--just like in my nightmare. That's when I knew I had to leave."

"Well, then everything is all right," Tessa chimed in. "You've broken the cycle by not picking up the sword. You don't have to worry about it anymore and you can come home with us."

Richie turned hopeful eyes toward Tessa, then Duncan. "Do you really think so?"

"Yes, we do," Duncan answered while Tessa nodded. "As long as you don't walk around the shop carrying a sword, I don't think we have to worry about this anymore."

"I'll never touch another sword again!" Richie promised.

For a moment, Duncan wished that Richie's promise could come true, but he knew the truth. Someday, the young man would have to use a sword to defend himself against other Immortals.

"The problem is solved then," Tessa insisted.

"What if the nightmares keep happening?" Richie asked.

"Then we'll talk about them--figure out what to do together," Duncan replied. "No more hiding."

"No more hiding," Richie agreed.

"Besides, you slept for almost eight hours today without having the nightmare," Tessa said.

Richie thought about it for a moment. "I did start having the nightmare, but it ended differently this time. You were there with me this time, Tessa, telling me everything was all right. It changed the whole nightmare." The teenager smiled broadly at the Frenchwoman.

Tessa reached over and kissed his cheek. "You must have heard me in your sleep, Richie, but I'm glad it helped."

Duncan glanced at his watch. "Well, it's too late to head home tonight. We'll have to wait until the morning."

"Ummm... " Richie looked around nervously. "I kinda lost the canoe," he finally admitted.

"Don't worry about it, Richie," Duncan replied. "It hadn't gone too far and I've already brought it back to shore. You tipped over, didn't you?"

"Well, yeah, but I got back in then. I was just so cold when I got to the island that I let it get away from me before I had a chance to tie it up."

"The most important thing was that you made it to the island," Tessa replied. "You could have drowned! As it was, you nearly died from hypothermia! Don't you ever do this again!"

"What? Almost drown? Or nearly die from hypothermia?" Richie replied cheekily.

"Oh, you..." Tessa glared at the young man for a moment before returning Richie's grin. "What am I going to do with you?" She reached out and ruffled his hair.

"I think he should be sent to his room," Duncan suggested as Richie yawned. "It looks like he's ready for bed."

Richie didn't protest, just gathered up the quilt and headed for his bedroom.

*****

The next morning, a highly energized Richie joined Duncan and Tessa at the breakfast table.

"Good morning," he almost caroled, a grin splitting his face. "Isn't it a beautiful day? What's for breakfast? I'm starved!"

Duncan and Tessa exchanged amused glances. "Does this mean you didn't have any nightmares last night?" Duncan asked.

"Not a one," Richie replied. "I'm a new man!"

"Good," Duncan said. "There's a few things that should be done as long as we're up here. And you're just the person to do them."

"Like what?" Richie asked suspiciously.

"Well, you've gotten so fond of cleaning and organizing," Duncan replied, trying to keep a straight face. "I thought you could clean the cabin from top to bottom--especially the attic. I don't think anyone has been up there in at least a year."

"Oh, man," Richie complained as he sank into his chair. "I knew I should have come up with something better to do when I couldn't sleep."

Duncan and Tessa burst into laughter at the look on the disgruntled youth's face.

"I'm just teasing," Duncan finally informed him. "Are you ready to go home?"

"Yeah," Richie replied, grin back in place. "Let's go home."

The end.


End file.
